


Shana Tova

by tomatopudding



Category: House M.D.
Genre: M/M, Religion, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-25
Updated: 2011-05-25
Packaged: 2017-10-19 19:07:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/204239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomatopudding/pseuds/tomatopudding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>House’s thoughts during the temple service for the Jewish New Year</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shana Tova

**Author's Note:**

> This came into my head when I was sitting in temple a few years ago during Rosh Hashana and I just had to write it. Just found it on my computer today.

'It’s Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year,' Wilson had said.

'So?'

This normal answer from House seemed to bother Wilson more that it usually would have.

'I have to go to temple,' he continued.

'So?'

'Come with me?'

______________ 

So now here he was, dressed in a full suit, and even wearing a tie. It was pretty boring, but Wilson sat rapt, hanging on to the Rabbi’s every Hebrew word. Being an Atheist, House couldn’t see the reason behind forcing a group of people to sit through an interminable service every year, but it seemed of great importance to Wilson, so House kept his mouth shut about his boredom.

_______________ 

'Literally, it means head of the new year,' Wilson had explained, 'We celebrate by eating a big meal with special foods like apples dipped in honey and pomegranate seeds. There are ten days after Rosh Hashanah during which we have to ask for forgiveness from God and from other people. Then we have Yom Kippur, the day of repentance, when we fast for the entire day. Supposedly, at the end of the day, God writes your name down in the Book of Life if you’re good and the Book of Death if you’re bad.'

'Sounds like Santa Clause,' House had smirked, ' "He knows if you’ve been bad or good".'

'Shut up, House.'

________________ 

It was nearing the end of the service, House saw, as he counted the remaining pages in the special Rosh Hashanah prayer book. Good, House thought, lunchtime. Wilson, who was on his left, leaned over.

'I’ll be right back,' he whispered, before getting up. House watched as Wilson made his way up the stage, or bema, as it was called in Hebrew.

'Our Shofar blower this morning is Yaakov ben Shaina,' the Rabbi announced. James, son of Alexandra. Wilson stepped forward and brought the Shofar to his lips.

________________

'It’s a ram’s horn, basically. It’s hollowed out and the tip is cut off. You play it like a trumpet,' Wilson had told him, turning the Shofar between his hands, 'During Rosh Hashanah, you blow a total of 100 times, in groups of 14. One blow, three blows, nine blows, and then one blow again. It’s supposed to symbolize how the nation of Israel separated into three distinct groups then broke up to spread across the world, but through it all we are still one.' He paused. 'I like to visualize different times in my life for each,' he admitted.

_________________ 

'T’kiyah!'

As Wilson blew the first long blast, House thought about before the infarction. His leg had been whole. He and Stacey had been an ‘us’. His life had felt complete, as if nothing bad could ever happen.

'Shvari’im!'

The three shorter blasts were after the infarction. After he had pushed Stacey away. There had been three: House, Wilson, and Cuddy. Though they were different people, they stood as a whole. Well, except when Vogler came around, but House pushed the bad memories from his head.

'T’ruah!'

Nine short blasts in rapid succession. All three of them had been torn because of a single life-changing incident. Wilson had been torn from losing Amber. House had been torn from losing Wilson. Cuddy had been torn from losing House. They were just one big circle of sadness.

'T’kiyah G’dolah!'

This blast was long and loud. It was his life now, House realized. He was part of an ‘us’ again. House and Wilson. As Wilson’s face grew steadily redder as he blew, House closed his eyes and let the monotonic sound wash over him. He remembered when Wilson came back, apologizing profusely, to find his name still on the wooden doorway. He remembered Wilson waking him up from his nap and remarking how the floor of the office couldn’t be very comfortable. He remembered the whispered promises. Don’t ever leave me again. I won’t. He remembered the tight embrace. He remembered confessing that he had been scared, scared that Wilson would never come back. He remembered the tears that fell. He remembered Wilson kissing them away. He remembered going back to his apartment and falling onto the bed, ignoring the pain in his leg. He remembered the ‘I love you’s.

'Shana tova, Wilson.'

'Shana tova, House.'


End file.
